


Conflict of Interest

by urfavehufflepuff



Series: First Time with a Merc. [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Angry Dick Grayson, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Drug Dealing, Fighting, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M, Mild Gore, Swearing, Trans Dick Grayson, slade is in a tough position, trigger warning for vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urfavehufflepuff/pseuds/urfavehufflepuff
Summary: Bruce needs help, and Slade is being distant. Dick doesn't want to make things any more complicated than they already are, but these two men and a shit ton of blackmail is making it pretty damn difficult.One step forward, two steps back.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: First Time with a Merc. [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841521
Comments: 12
Kudos: 152





	1. The Warehouse

**Author's Note:**

> things were going too well for them. it's about time we really got into some shit :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've got balls, making that kind of joke. You can be a real piece of work, princess."
> 
> Dick doesn't have time to turn away from the punch to his gut, and he buckles to the ground.
> 
> "Fuck, Slade," he coughs. "At least I know where your priorities lie. Ever giving you the time of day was a fucking mistake."

It feels like he's been chucked into an incinerator. Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but he's hot. Dick slowly opens his eyes to first glare at the window, and then at the other man in his bed.

_'So he did make it here…'_

He reaches out to run a hand through Slade's white hair, and he can't help but smile. He looks so… peaceful. Not the way he usually looks. Serious, and almost sad. He sighs softly as he slips out from underneath Slade's arm so he can get ready to leave. Dick doesn't like to disappear before the person he spent the night with wakes up, but Bruce needs him today for something he couldn't possibly turn down even if he wanted to. He's still upset with the man, but he's working on forgiveness. Doesn't mean he won't give him a hard time though. He leans over to kiss Slade on the cheek, fighting back a giggle as he notices…

_'God, even your eyelashes are white.'_

While changing into some workout clothes, he thinks about the past couple of days. He and Slade barely saw each other and when they did, either one, the other, or both were asleep or they just fucked and then slept. They also weren't talking; not in the way they had before. Would it be too much to ask for an explanation as to why the older man's being so distant? Well, it's not like Dick's really in a position to judge. When they first began whatever this is, he did not make it easy for Slade at all. He was an on fire trainwreck doused in gasoline that the other had to put up with and somehow he did, and continued to spend time with Dick despite being berated or insulted for no apparent reason. Dick plants one last kiss on the mercenary's cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind the man's ear.

"Don't ever cut your hair," he murmurs. "I'd never forgive you."

  
He should've known that this wouldn't be easy. Should have fucking known, because of course these guys would hire Deathstroke the Terminator aka. Dick's fuckbuddy to guard the dock. And now Slade's distant behavior over the past week can be explained, and Dick is pissed. He thought he might have done something to upset the older man but no, Slade is just being greedy. And yeah, Slade's a mercenary and takes whatever jobs he can because that's his job, but Dick expected more out of him than this. Most of the time he doesn't even need to bother the other man because the contracts he takes are to get rid of bad people, and despite being raised by Batman he has no qualms with a shitty person dying. He does have a bit of a problem with Slade working for drug traffickers, because that can ruin millions of people's lives. Innocent lives.

_"Nightwing, you get into the warehouse and stop the transfer. I'll handle Deathstroke."_

God, this'll be _fun_.

"On it."

Yeah, not easy. Slade will hear him, and he'll be stuck fighting the very man he slept with two days ago. Boy, this will be awkward.

_'Will he be gentle? Fuck no. Will he kill Bruce? Who knows. Would he… would he kill me? I… don't know.'_

He drops to the ground from the storage container he was perched on and lands with a soft thud. It would have been silent to any normal human being, but then again Slade _isn't_ a normal human being. Strike one; the man turned his head at the noise.

' _Okay, calm down. It's just like sneaking up on him at home.'_

Except it's not. Slade's prepared, ready for action and not distracted by anything. He's on a _job_.

Dick rolls his eyes when there's a bit of a crackle in his ear as Bruce contacts him.

_"Place an explosive on the crate at the entrance and then another in the middle. We can't risk any of the substance getting out--"_

"I fucking _know_ , Batman." he hisses into the comm link. Whoops.

Strike two, Slade is walking toward him. He skitters behind a pile of crates in hope that the man wouldn't see him, but really? He knows that won't work. And where the hell is Bruce?! Isn't he supposed to be distracting this son of a bitch?

"I know you're here, kitten."

Strike fucking three. There's no use in staying hidden so he darts up and bolts to the warehouse, able to dodge every swing of the mercenary's sword before he's being yanked back by the collar of his suit and lifted into the air.

"Slade--"

"You should know better than that, Grayson."

Without skipping a beat he uses the continued momentum from running to swing up, wrapping one leg around the older man's arm and slamming the heel of his other foot into the side of his helmet.

"And you should know better than accepting jobs from drucker traffickers, Deathstroke!" Dick spits out as he twists away from Slade's grip, dragging the other man to the ground with a grunt.

"It's my fucking business, you brat! Didn't we talk about this already? Why the hell would I listen to you?!"

" _Russia_ , you idiot! And what you and your little friends are doing is something I can't _turn a blind eye to!_ You never work with drugs!" Dick shouts as he dodges every punch from the man. It's almost as if he's trying to miss; if he wasn't holding back Dick would be flattened by now. "Hell, I let you get away with so much, but this?! This is unacceptable!"

Slade pauses for a moment, and Dick skids to a halt as he watches. What the hell--

"You've got balls, kid. Most don't dare to make that kind of a joke around me. You're a real piece of work, princess."

Dick doesn't have time to prepare for or turn away from the punch in the gut that Slade gives him and he crumbles to the ground, failing to swallow the vomit that forces its way back through his mouth. After a second of retching he glares up at the older man.

"Fuck, Slade," he coughs. "At least I know where your priorities lie. I should've never given you the time of day. Giving you a chance was a mistake."

The venom in his voice surprises even Dick himself, and he immediately snaps his mouth shut. He didn't mean that. He doesn't mean that. God, what has he done?! And where the hell is Bruce?!

Dick lets out a yelp as a fistful of his hair is grabbed and he's being dragged up to his feet.

"That's not my problem, sweetheart. That was your choice."

Before he can say anything else there's a hand wrapping around his neck and he's being lifted into the air again and fuck he can't breathe. This is not the kind of choking he likes. Dick kicks out against the mercenary while clawing at his neck in an attempt to free himself. He can't read Slade's expression either, it's as if he's made of stone…

_'He's actually going to kill me.'_

...Maybe this really was a mistake. He really thought that he meant more than a job to this man. He just wanted to be loved. But damn, is this going to hurt for both of them.

Dick whips out a combat knife and drives it through Slade's wrist, twisting it as hard as he can until he hears the scrape of metal on bone and he's being dropped to the ground as if he was on fire. Dick takes that chance to wind up and jump-kick the older man in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

"You're the one who made a fucking mistake, Deathstroke," Dick growls as he stalks over to the other man, crushing his hand underneath his boot to pull the knife free. He struggles to hold back a grimace at the tearing sound as the serrated edge shreds through Slade's skin, blood spurting from the wound. "Don't worry about that, Slade, you'll heal up in no time."

He feels dirty. He feels dirty and he _hates_ it. Just as he's about to turn around there's a click.

"I know I'll heal quickly, but _you_ won't."

Fuck. He has a gun pointed at his chest. Dick doesn't even think before he makes a dive for it, struggling to push it away from its mark. He should have fucking known.

"Slade! Don't do this!"

"Nightwing--"

 _Bang_.

He doesn't feel it right away, and at first he thought that Slade missed, but then there was a hot liquid pouring from his shoulder and it began to burn.

"You fucking shot me?!" Dick screams, clutching his shoulder. "You're disgusting--"

He's cut off when there's a whizz and then a clang as a batarang knocks the firearm out of Slade's hand.

"Oh great now he's fucking here."

"Shot you witha rubber bullet, princess. Just for you. You'd better stay safe."

"Deathstroke!"

Dick is knocked back as Bruce drops down from above onto the mercenary's chest.

"About fucking time--"

" _Later_ , Dick." Bruce snaps.

Fine. Be that way. Now's his chance to get inside, so he scrambles up and bursts into the building just to be met with the 'workers' out cold on the floor and the detonators already set.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

  
"You shouldn't have come here, Wilson."

He's unsure if Bruce is trying to intimidate him or is just stating a fact, but either way Slade can't help but laugh in his face.

"Thought you'd like me better _here_ than in your pretty bird's _bed_."

His confusion gives Slade the opening he's looking for, and he pushes Bruce off of him and grabs his sword.

"You really need to keep an eye on your _pets_ , Bruce."

  
In all honesty he should count this as a blessing. He has a chance to catch his breath before having to go outside and face Slade again, but he rethinks that brilliant idea when he goes to touch his injured shoulder and blood pours out and across his hand, soaking his glove. He winces, because fuck it burns but it at least isn't that deep. Dammit he's going to kill Slade.Maybe not the best choice to go back. Then he sees something interesting, something he didn't expect. He pick up a clipboard from one of the wooden crates and spots a familiar name.

"Fucking Black Mask."

Dick stuffs the paper into his utility belt. It's a good start, but not nearly enough to get a conviction if this heads to court. He glances around and finds a miniature office area, and decides that's probably the best bet if he's going to find more information or even a medical kit. He slips inside the room as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake one of the men on the floor. He's unable to stop the gasp that comes out of his mouth when he sees the packs of cocaine stacked against the wall, though.

"Why would Slade ever take this kind of a job?"

He goes over to the desk and begins to rifle through the papers scattered across it and in the drawers and finds quite a few incriminating documents and photos. Good. They can use those. He's about to leave when he sees a latch on the side of one of the drawers. Curiosity gets the best of him and he opens the secret compartment, but he was not expecting to see something like that, and his blood runs cold.

"Fuck, this is so messed up."


	2. Tell me the Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> there will be small mentions of torture and psychological manipulation in this chapter, so please please please be careful when reading if you know those topics upset you

True to his word, the bullet that he and Alfred pulled out of his shoulder is rubber. This just created more questions than answers for Bruce, but for Dick it explains almost everything. And yet again, Bruce refuses to listen to him.

"What is your relationship with that man?!" Bruce's voice echoes around him in the cave, and he feels like he's drowning in it. He hates the way sound travels here.

"Please, just look at--"

"That's not an answer to my question, Dick. He said that you let him--"

"That's _really_ not important right now! Bruce, please just look--"

The older man lunges forward and snatches the file from Dick's outstretched hand.

"Of course I'm going to read them, but I need you to be _honest_ with me. What are you doing with that man?"

Dick has no idea what Slade told him, so he might as well tell the truth and accept the consequences.

"Slade and I hang out, we have sex, then we go on with our lives! So yeah the thing you're worried about has already happened so _stop_. Just _stop_." Dick yells. "When you fired me I was a fucking mess and I would be dead if it wasn't for Slade! You were here obsessing over Jason and never once checked in to see how I was doing. Not that you did that before, but still! He was there when I desperately needed someone. Anyone. You think I wanted to start this with him?! Because if you can't remember, I spent the better half of my goddamn life terrified of that motherfucker! Yet he still helped me more than you ever did!"

Silence. He's met with silence.The men stand there for a moment, both refusing to break eye contact first.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, Bruce. I don't even know why I try with you anymore because you clearly only see what you want to see." Dick shakes his head as he turns away. He's tired, and sad, and in pain, and most of all he just wants _sleep_. He's not going to fight with B over this right now.

"I can't trust you. Not when you're so close to a mass _murderer_."

 _What_.

Dick whips back around, injury momentarily forgotten as rage boils up in his chest as he shoves his former mentor back by the chest.

" _You_ can't trust _me?!_ I wouldn't even be in the position I am today if you had just listened to me! Oh, and what the hell was that little stunt you pulled at the warehouse today, huh?! You said that you'd handle Slade while I went inside but you did the exact opposite! Your selfishness hot me fucking _shot_ , Bruce!"

He was about to continue yelling, but then a tiny head popped around the corner of a wall.

"I did what I thought was best and if you can't understand or accept that then this conversation is _over_."

Dick scoffs, then swallows around the lump that has formed in his throat. When the hell did their lives turn into this? How is one man so bad at being a human?

"Good, because we shouldn't be fighting in front of Jason.

Bruce spins around, eyes locking onto the younger boy.

"What're ya doing?" Jason asks, stepping out of the shadows now that he's been discovered.

Oh.

Bruce and Dick look at each other for a second, then Bruce speaks up.

"We were sorting out the final paperwork for this case we wrapped up tonight. Why don't you go to bed, it's late."

"I'm not a fucking idiot, I _know_ you two were fighting. I just wanted to see if you would be truthful, since that seems to be a lacking trait in this family."

Alright. He's not going to put up with this, he's not going to get involved. Dick needs to cool off before he loses his temper completely. And yeah, he knows what Jason is going through but the last thing he wants is to get caught up between Jay and Bruce. Especially because he just doesn't have enough energy to care.

"Just look at the fucking files, Bruce."

  
Sleep evades him at every turn, the pain pills aren't working and he is not gonna use morphine, and his mind will not stop racing. Those files… Roman had threatened the people that Slade loves most, and Dick was on that list. He also has at least fifteen children being held hostage and tortured so he has bargaining chips. God, those images he saw in the files are burned into his mind, they're all he sees when he closes his eyes now. It's no wonder that Slade would do anything that was asked of him if so many innocent lives were on the line. Well, that's what Dick would like to _think_ at least. He shudders and he runs a hand over his face. Roman Sionis is a sociopath, and no matter what happens those kids don't stand a chance unless they're rescued in time. His heart rate is back up and he's dripping with sweat, and he doesn't know if it's due to the gunshot wound or the amount of stress he's under at the moment and quite frankly he doesn't care. Gosh, he misses his mom so much. Whenever he was nervous about something she would sit with him, run her hands through his hair, and sing him to sleep. He definitely isn't able to calm himself on his own at the moment, so he does his best to imagine she is here with him. It doesn't work. _He can't remember he_ r. The sob rips it's way from his throat before he can stop it, tears streaming down his face and eyes wild. There's no way he can join the others in saving the children, no way he'll try to find Slade because right now he's not sure if he'd be able to ignore the urge to beat the shit out of him. The only thing left was to get his feelings out in any way he can, so he rolls over onto his good shoulder and continues to cry. And Bruce fucking _knows_ about Slade, _about them_. And he's livid. Suddenly Dick feels nauseous, and he scrambles to the bathroom before he's forced to vomit on his bed.

  
He must've passed out because the door is opening and Jason walks in, holding a bottle of water. Dick barely lifts his head off of the toilet seat, but he smiles at the younger boy nonetheless.

"Hey, little wing."

"Hey yourself you piece of shit." Jay smiles as he squats down, setting the bottle next to Dick. "Your crying stopped. Thought you might've died or somethin'."

Dick blinks, then starts to laugh. But apparently Jason does not find the comment nearly as much as his 'brother' does, and he waits for the older man to finish.

"Ya know, Bruce said he's gonna talk with the League about what you found. I overheard him telling Alfred about it."

Dick hums and closes his eyes. God, he's tired.

"And I think Wonder Woman's gonna come. She's really cool… I like her."

He smiles as he listens to Jason talk about his totally-not-crush. The boy still doesn't know what the life of a vigilante is about; he's still got some hope left, some innocence that wasn't tarnished by his life in the streets. Dick can feel his heart rip in two for Jason.

"She'll be happy to see you, Jay. She asks about you when I see her and she always wants to know how you're doing."

The boy's eyes light up, and Dick finds himself wanting to protect the kid. He'd had the same reaction to Superman, and the same hope. No one else should have the chance of a good childhood stripped away from them.

"Well, uh, the water's for you. Crying makes you dehydrated and all that shit," Jason mutters as he stands back up. "I'm gonna be in my room. Bruce is still in the cave so you don't have to worry 'bout him right now.

"Okay. And Jason?"

He pauses in the doorway.

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i made myself cry with this one, but i needed something that would make Slade be willing to sacrifice the best thing that's ever happened to him :')
> 
> i was also kind of excited (for lack of a better word) to get into the mind of Black Mask, because in class we're talking about the differences between psychopathy, sociopathy, and narcissism and it's really interesting, because even though all three have overlapping traits, they are very very different and trying to figure out if Roman is a psychopath or sociopath was difficult because his character is so complex and has such a tragic past :o we also talked about torture methods and the different forms of torture so why not put that knowledge to good use and write gay fanfiction, am i right?


	3. Sorry, it was an Accident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w0w slade bro y'all done goofed
> 
> final chapter!  
> alfred is the mvp and dick needs that right now

They had no choice in whether or not the police got involved. The Justice League ended up scouting the place, then worked with law enforcement in order to safely lock down the site and extract the children with as minimal damage as possible. As happy as Dick is about the children being home, he is equally as pissed that someone didn't kill Roman Sionis on the spot. After the arrest of the criminal mastermind, Slade disappeared without even sending him a text. Now _that_ is something the boy has mixed feelings about. He knows that Slade was trying to protect him by pushing him away, by making Dick hate him with every fiber of his being, but the man also fucking shot him. Albeit with a supposedly non-lethal bullet, but if Slade is willing to put Dick's life on the line just so someone else couldn't kill him first, he's got a couple of complaints. Whatever. He doesn't have time to worry about an ex-... ex what? They never talked about how much they really meant to each other. Either way, he's _busy_ , and the last thing he wants to think about is Slade Wilson. Except that's exactly what's on his mind, and he's only _telling_ himself that he's busy. The last words Slade said to him were _'you'd better stay safe._ ' He had wanted Dick to be _safe_. Damn, why can't anything in his life be simple.

"Have you taken your shot today, Master Dick?"

He jolts out of his daze to see Alfred leaning over him, brows furrowed.

"What?"

"I asked if you had--"

"Oh, yeah, I have, thanks Alfred."

_Fuck. What a way to be subtle, Richard._

He looks back up to see that the butler hasn't budged.

"...You okay, Alfred?"

The old man squints down at him, and he feels himself shrink a bit. Why does everyone have that motherly glare thing?!

"I'm baking cookies. Would you care to join me in the kitchen?"

_Oh shit!_

Dick perks up. He sucks at anything that has to do with anything related to a kitchen, but how could he pass up a chance to steal some of the cookie dough?

"I'd love to--"

"But you must keep your sticky little hands out of the bowl, Master Dick."

Aw. Damn.

He groans, but gets up anyway.

"Alright. I'll help you."

"I thought I said to keep your bloody hands _out!"_ Alfred chides as he slaps Dick's hand with a spoon.

"Ouch! But Alfred--"

He giggles as Alfred glares daggers at him. Then the butler's turning back to mixing the dough with the chocolate chips and the little shit is reaching for the bowl again.

"Master Richard I will not be asking again," but Alfred's voice quivers slightly, then his eyes soften and he's chuckling. "I've missed you. And your childish antics."

"I missed you too, Alfred."

They sit in silence for a while, Alfred continuing his work on his magical chocolate chip cookies and Dick watching him. The former Boy Wonder closes his eyes as the soft summer breeze flows through the window, and it's as if he's twelve years old again and Alfred is desperately trying to teach him the ways of the kitchen. The butler gave up after Dick lit the spaghetti on fire.

"It really isn't that bad, I've had a lot worse--"

"Shush. I am merely checking to make sure you haven't pulled the stitches out."

Dick flinches as the butler's gloved finger tips brush past his wound, and Alfred raises an eyebrow.

"Would you like me to get you some painkillers, Master Dick?"

He's about to protest, but then Alfred is pulling the gloves off and tossing them into the bin while on his way to the cupboard.

"...That'd be great, Alfred."

"I've noticed that your other scars have been healing quite nicely. How do you feel about them? Did the surgeon live up to your expectations?"

A warmth blooms throughout his face, and he looks down at them, tracing one of the long scars that ran horizontally across his chest.

"I feel great. It's more than I could have ever hoped for."

He's heading back to his apartment in Blüdhaven sooner than he'd like to, but it's time to move on. The bullet wound is healed, and there's no reason for him to stay at the manor any longer. Maybe he should call Roy, or maybe even Clark. He can always talk to the _Man of Steel_ if he needs to, and he's honestly still a little star struck over the fact that they're friends. Either way, he doesn't want to be alone. But as soon as he sets foot in his apartment, he knows something is wrong. The window is open. The window should not be open. He turns the corner and sees none other than Slade fucking Wilson sitting at his kitchen table, typing away on his stupid laptop.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing here?!"

The bastard turns around in the chair and gives Dick a small smile.

"...I fucked up."

Dick shakes his head, a hand coming up to press against his forehead because damn he's already got a fucking headache.

"I'm sorry, did I fucking _hear that correctly?_ You… 'fucked up'? You did a hell of a lot more than just _fucking up!"_ he gives the mercenary a once-over, and for some reason he feels his heart break a little. "What the hell happened to you…?"

"Sit down. I'll tell you."

"Wait wait wait, hold on, you actually had a plan to kill Black Mask?! Fuck…"

What the hell. Dick presses his head into his hands. What. The. Hell.

"It was a contract. One I happily accepted until Roman confronted me with an ultimatum. Dick… I couldn't let him hurt those kids any more than he already did. I couldn't have any more suspicion drawn to me, and I had to hurt you in some way if you showed up to the warehouse to prove I was serious about working with him. If he saw any hesitation during our fight he would've sent a sniper, and I _know_ this one. She _never_ misses her mark."

Dick lifts his head to look up at him, and then he's reaching out to rest his hand on Slade's cheek. Fuck, he's actually _here_ , and Dick doesn't know if he should punch him or kiss him.

"You should have told me. You should have _told_ me, you fucking bastard."

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry."

"Which contract is that one?"

Slade looks up to see Dick leaning over his shoulder. He's a lot more _curious_ about his jobs after that whole debacle with Black Mask, and he really can't blame the kid. So he started sharing them openly, and making sure that each one gets the _Grayson Stamp of Approval_ before he accepts the offer.

"Abusive orphanage lady."

Dick grimaces.

"You gonna take it?"

"Yeah. She's gotta go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this was my first shot at like, *angst* angst, so i hope i did alright :'o i'm so used to writing fluff!!! but i want to branch out and try some new things, and i had a lot of fun with this one
> 
> i also want to say thank you! all of you who are reading my keyboard smashes mean a whole lot, and your comments make my day 💖 i'm so happy i finally started posting stuff after years of just hoarding them in my journals lmaoooo

**Author's Note:**

> it hurt to write this, but Slade is still a mercenary, and he's the best out there for a reason. he's going to do what he wants, right?


End file.
